Pathetic
by baka alchemist
Summary: One would assume that after defeating Voldemort, Harry's life would be nice and easy. But killing the main enemy doesn't always mean surviving the battle. [HBP didn't happen!] HPSS preslash


This plot bunny was jumping around my brain for such a long time... I've tried writing it once, with slightly different ending planned and different characters starring, but I've deleted it soon after starting. This time I've managed to finish, and I have to say that I'm quite satisfied with the story. I hope you will like it.

Disclaimer: _Not mine. Never was, never will. Unfortunately.

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_**-Pathetic-  
**__by b.a._

Harry felt dizzy.

He didn't open his eyes because he felt that he won't like what would he see if he did. The only thing he could hear ware extremely loud sounds of... crumbling? As if whole world was shaking and falling apart. Or maybe it was? Maybe he had lost and Voldemort had destroyed everything... Maybe. But Harry didn't really want to know. If he said that he was comfortable where he was would be to lie blatantly, but the mere idea of moving was rather appalling. He was tired... so very tired. Of everything. Of fighting, of training, of worrying, of killing, of seeing people die. Of dodging, jumping, throwing curses... of changing into a killing machine against his will.

How nice would it be if he was allowed to rest.. just for a little while. The others would do his work for him.

Yet his mind told him otherwise.

He knew that he should move, should fight, should worry. His whole life was based on fighting, wasn't it? Why should it change now?

Because Harry deserved it.

But of course that didn't matter. So Harry did as he was taught to – he opened his eyes slowly, then moved his legs a bit... and yelled when wave of most excruciating pain crashed through his body. He felt as if every little bone and muscle were on fire that was the hottest in his right ankle. He was about to sit up when somebody grabbed his shoulders and kept him on the ground. And then everything became silent. He could hardly hear his screams of pain before. The silence was stunning.

"I see you have finally awakened, Mr. Potter."

Harry's mind was clouded with pain, but he couldn't have been wrong – he had heard that silky baritone so many times... There was only one person who could be the owner of that voice.

"Professor?" croaked Harry, then gasped when fresh wave of painful heat emanated from his ankle.

"Don't try to move. Potter. Your leg is crushed, you will damage it further by trying to pull it from under that bookshelf."

The Gryffindor turned his head to see, and indeed, his right leg was under a rather large bookhself. Was he in library?

"Where are we, Professor?"

"One would think that after seven years you will be able to recognize this place... it's the library, Potter. That scary place with books."

"Ha, ha."

They were silent for a long while. Harry used the time to check his surroundings. If the bookshelves weren't lying around, he wouldn't have guessed that he was in the library. There where two of them above him and Snape, forming some kind of a shelter. One of them landed directly on Harry's ankle.

Professor Snape was sitting few meters away from Harry, perched on small pile of books. He was looking rather annoyed, which wasn't surprising at all, considering their current situation.

"Professor... what exactly is going on?"

"You can call it... Voldemort's parting gift."

"He's gone, then?"

"You_ killed_ him, idiot, of course he is gone."

"Wasn't sure. Back to the topic, please?"

"The earthquake spell was set to activate in case the Dark Lord died. It was supposed to destroy Hogwarts, but because of permanent _repairo _that was cast on the castle by the founders, Hogwarts is falling apart and rebuilding itself at the same time. We had the misfortune to get stuck in the middle of the process."

"When will it end?"

"I have no idea. Maybe in few hours, maybe tomorrow, maybe never. Now shut up, I have to think."

"One more thing. Could you possibly do something with my leg? My wand exploded after I had killed Voldemort..."

"No."

"No?"

"No. My magic is gone.'

"Gone?"

"Stop repeating my words! Yes, it's _gone_. The Dark Lord tired to save himself by using Death Eaters' magic. He had failed, but I am drained anyway. All I could manage was to cast silencing spell around us."

"Oh..."

"So we're trapped here with no way of escape. Now that we finally established that, will you shut up?"

"..."

"Thank you."

-.-

Two hours passed, and nothing changed. Besides the pain, which made it impossible for Harry to think about something not connected with pain, _crucio_, bones and suffering, Harry was highly irritated by his teacher's behaviour. The man was supposed to do something, look for the way out, think about escape. But no, he was just sitting on the same pile of books, in the same position and with the same expression and did nothing. He didn't even blink once. Just sat. And stared at Harry. All the time.  
All.  
The.  
Fucking.  
Time.

"Professor?"

"Yes?"

"Could you _stop_?"

"Stop _what_, Potter?"

"Staring at me, _Snape_."

"Ten points from Gryffindor for addressing your teacher without appropriate title. And no, I won't stop. There's nothing else to do."

"Maybe you should try to find a _way to escape_ from here?

"There is none."

"Why won't you ever try? You have life to live, Professor."

"And you don't, Potter?"

Harry looked away. Why did that man had to make his life miserable even if said life was very close to its end?

"No, I don't" whispered the boy. He didn't indent to say it loud enough for his professor to hear, but the man's hearing was amazingly sharp.

"What are you talking about, Potter?"

"You _honestly_ don't know?"

"I wouldn't ask if I knew."

"Fine, I'll tell you. They are going to kill me or throw me into Azkaban when the war ends."

"_What?_"

"I've overheard Dumbledore and Mr.Weasley talking about it few days ago. They think that I am too powerful to be left alone and free. Mr.Weasley said that I will probably become the next Dark Lord."

"If it's a joke, Potter, then I assure you, it's the least funny one I've ever heard."

"Only Slytherins are able to joke about death, Professor."

And with that, the conversation ended again.

-.-

Harry Had no idea how much time have passed. He was sick and tired of looking at the bookshelf that was currently in the place of celling. He had tried to read a book, the pain made it impossible to concentrate. Snape was completely ignoring him, engrossed in some potions text. All that was left for Harry was to think. Since the pain has lessened a bit, he was able to think about something that was not related to his ankle, though the memory of the conversation between Dumbledore and Mr.Weasley was constantly on the front of him mind.

How could they do that to him?

He had sacrificed his life for them and _their_ war. Yes, Voldemord had killed his parents. But if Dumbledore didn't manipulate him into starting the fight, Harry wouldn't have done anything to avenge his parents. Getting himself killed isn't the best way to honour their deaths... Besides, Harry wasn't the one to start fights. He was the one to _avoid_ them at any cost. He would wonder, think about countless what ifs and maybes, but unless somebody made him to start fighting, he wouldn't do anything but think. But unfortunately somebody _had_ made him to fight...

And now he was dying.

Or rather _being murdered. _

Harry wasn't stupid. He knew that Ron had deliberately pushed him. He had tripped, fallen over something... and stayed behind, unable to escape when the one of the falling rocks blocked the exit. He had tried to find another one, but obviously didn't succeed. And that's what they wanted – to trap him here and blame his death on Voldemort.  
Harry wished he could find a way to tell the world about his _friends. _

To be honest, he had accepted the fact that his so-called family would murder him over those few days. Ha had accepted to fact that he would probably die long time ago – after all, he was fighting a war. But he would never, ever accept the fact that no one would ever know.

-.-

Harry didn't know when exactly had he lost consciousness. He was extremely surprised to find his head resting on Professor Snape's lap. At first he was sure that it had to be a dream – the situation was just _too_ bizarre to be true. His face must have been full of disbelief, because Snape pinched his arm rather painfully.

"What was _that_ for?"

"To assure you that you are not dreaming."

"What happened?"

"You have fallen asleep or lost consciousness. I think you might have had a nightmare, you were trashing around as wildly as your leg would allow you to. There are no pillows. I hope you don't mind."

"Thank you, Professor."

"You are welcome, Potter. We can't have our national hero dying of brain damage."

Harry was fully awake now, but neither of them moved. Well, Harry couldn't, but he didn't mention moving.

It was kind of nice, having his head lie in somebody's lap, even if that somebody was Snape. Harry let his mind wander, imagining that he was lazing around on a tropical beach, surrounded by palm trees and beautiful, crystal blue ocean. His companion was young, handsome, smiling and just a bit similar to Snape... a tiny bit, really. The man was slowly running his fingers through Harry's unruly hair, as if trying to make them smoother.

The sounds of imaginary ocean lulled tired Griffindor into peaceful sleep.

-.-

The wonderful feeling of long fingers combing through his hair was part of his dreams, wasn't it? It couldn't have been real. Professor Snape would never... Even if he didn't hate Harry as much as he did, he was such a bastard that he would have never done anything to make somebody feel good out of his free will.

But he apparently did.

Harry had opened his eyes a little and saw relaxed face of his professor, whose hands were currently moving slowly through the rat nest that some dared to call his hair. Was Snape sleeping and doing that subconsciously? Or maybe he was doing the same thing as Harry did before – imagining that he was somewhere else with somebody else? Probably.

But it felt good, regardless of the person who was doing that to him.

So Harry didn't mind and didn't move.

_-.-_

Some time later Snape's hand first stilled, then quickly moved away. Harry assumed that the man realized what and to whom was he doing. He was sure that if he dared to show that he was awake and opened his eyes, he would have seen face full of horror and disgust.

"Wake up, Potter... "

"..."

"_Wake up_!" repeated Snape, shaking Harry's shoulder gently.

"Now I am." answered the boy, trying to sound and look sleepy.

"Good. I want to know who have survived the battle."

"Umm... Dumbledore, Ron, Mr.Weasley, McGonagall and Remus for sure. I saw Tonks and Moody running to the exit when the castle started to fall apart, but I don't know if they survived. The rest of the Order was on the grounds."

"So there is hope for you... Lupin will fight until death for you. Maybe he will come for us."

"Why did you say 'for you'? If they come for me, they'll rescue you too!"

"Potter... spies are good to have during the war. They are very inconvenient after."

"But they wouldn't leave you here to die!"

"Remind me, what did they do to _you_?"

"..."

"My point."

"Why are you always like that?"

"Like what?"

"Mean."

"It was expected of me. And I would lie if I said that I had to pretend."

"We're gonna die soon. Could you try to be decent just once?"

"Potter..."

"Once."

"I will try, though I'm not promising anything, brat."

"Thanks."

-.-

"Could you stop squirming?"

"My back is sore. Try lying in the same position for ten hours on hard ground and we'll see what will you do."

"I should throw your head off my lap for that."

"Sorry."

"Do you want to sit up?"

"Yes, I'd like that. But how?"

Without any warning, Snape grabbed Harry's shoulders and moved his to sitting position. Then he had rearranged himself so that Harry's back could rest against his chest, when the boy was sitting between his legs.

Harry had to admit that his current position was way better that the previous one. He wouldn't admit it even if somebody threatened him with bodily harm, but the feeling of Snape's heart beating softly against his back was the best of it all. Though he had to change his mind when his professor wrapped his hands around Harry's waist. _That_ was the best.

"Comfortable?"

"Yes, very." said Harry and rested his head on Snape's shoulder. He felt that the man stiffened for a second, but didn't move. His neck was so sore...

"I'd say you are _too_ comfortable."

"Should I move...?"

"No."

-.-

"Do you have something to eat?"

"No."

"I'm starving."

"So am I, but since there's nothing I can do about it, I don't waste my energy on whining."

"Not even a little chocolate bar?"

"Do I look like somebody who's carrying chocolate with him?"

"You don't look like somebody who would share either."

-.-

"They won't come."

"Sure you're fast. I've told you that three hours ago."

"I didn't want to believe."

"What now, when you do?"

Harry didn't answer. He has just snuggled deeper into Snape's embrace. If the circumstances were different, he would have freaked out when he felt his professor's lips form into a smile against his temple.

-.-

Snape was asleep. Harry could feel that the man's breathing slowed and was more even, and that more of professor's weight was on Harry. He didn't mind. It was kind of comforting, if anything can be comforting when you're just waiting for your inevitable death.

He was abnormally calm. When he thought about dying before it was always painful, long and terrifying, just like death from Voldemort's tortures would be. But now... apart from being thirsty and hungry, nothing was really bad. Even the pain in his ankle lessened to a barely noticeable level.

It was a nice way to die, if you forgot about the fact that you are being murdered by your friends.

-.-

"Professor..."

"Yes...?"

"There's a crack. The bookshelf won't last much longer."

"Yes, I think you are right."

"Is that _it_?"

"What did you expect? Fireworks and orchestra?"

"No, but... it's so...I don't know. We've just going to die under tones of rocks."

"Yes, we will. We can't to anything."

"It's pathetic."

"It is."

Harry felt Snape's lips press against his temple in softest of kisses.

He was surprised that he didn't cry.

He was surprised that he was only a little sad.

He was surprised that he didn't mind dying with Snape.

He was surprised that in the end, everything was so fucking right when it should be wrong.

But he wasn't surprised when he felt the arms around him tightening seconds before bookshelf which was sheltering them broke.

And then, there was nothing.

_-fin-_


End file.
